<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Just To Ease The Lonely by getoffmybarricade</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26842024">Just To Ease The Lonely</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/getoffmybarricade/pseuds/getoffmybarricade'>getoffmybarricade</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dear Evan Hansen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Anxiety, F/M, Guilt, Implied/Referenced Anxiety Attacks, Loneliness, M/M, Regret, evan and Connor could have been friends</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 13:01:21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,325</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26842024</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/getoffmybarricade/pseuds/getoffmybarricade</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The name ‘Connor Murphy’ has always been a name that Evan Hansen had taken for granted  </p><p>And they could have been friends</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Evan Hansen &amp; Connor Murphy, Evan Hansen/Connor Murphy, Evan Hansen/Zoey Murphy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Just To Ease The Lonely</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/mind_if_i_slyther_in/gifts">mind_if_i_slyther_in</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I gifted this to @mind_if_i_slyther_in<br/>because:<br/>1. I was bored and wanted to gift someone something<br/>2. It was kind of your idea anyway<br/>3. I’m so glad you finally joined ao3 </p><p>Also: GO READ HER WORK</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The name ‘Connor Murphy’ had always been a name that Evan Hansen had sort of taken for granted. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Was that the right way to phrase it? </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It’s more...the name has always been around. In elementary school Connor Murphy had always been there, when they both started middle school and then, finally, in high school it had still stuck with him. And the worse part was that they’d never even been friends. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Acquaintances, sure, but never friends. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They practically grew up side-by-side and had never exchanged more than a few words and perhaps a slight nod of the head or a brief smile in the hallways. Nothing else. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And now Evan lies on his bed, alone, with every light turned off and submerged in darkness. The dark is comforting; it doesn’t lie or promise things that won’t ever come true and it is silent, so blissfully silent. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He used to be afraid of it when he was a child and remembered the way he would tremble and shiver as he looked around desperately, straining his eyes to look for light that wasn’t there. He remembered when his mom bought him those ninja turtle night lights for “protection.” He used to pretend that they would fight off the bad guys and keep them far away because he was never able to do so himself. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Even when he was little he never played the games the other boys in his class did. They always used to pretend they were catching the baddies and he knew he would never be able to be strong enough. He was too weak and he was too scared to pretend to be someone he wasn’t. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ironic, really, since he’s spent the entirety of this year doing just that. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He wondered, even then, if maybe </span>
  <em>
    <span class="s2">he </span>
  </em>
  <span class="s1">was the bad guy. Because surely if he couldn’t catch them then he should be the one to be caught out? Caught lying and cheating and shaking because he was so, so afraid and so, so stupid. He knows now that they weren’t normal thoughts for a child. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But then the anxiety came. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It crept along the foot of his bed at night and curled around his shoulders, tracing one long, icy finger down his spine and whispered things he didn’t want to hear in his ears. They wrapped themselves around his mind and tied him down, like a weight tied to his ankles, and squeezed at his heart, poking and prodding and screaming monstrosities at him until it finally became too much and the panic and hurt and the comfort he wanted so desperately but never got spilled over the edge. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">After that he could never control any of it. Not when his breathing spun out of his control and his head pounded with the force of a thousand drums and his whole body turned numb with fear. Not when his throat closed up and his fingers turned cold, stiff and as frozen in place as his useless mind. Not even when the tears fell in rivers down his face and he screamed and shook for warm arms to cradle him and promise that everything was going to be okay. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It was never okay. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Though, finally, the fear shifted and settled back to just the pit in his chest that he had come to accept as the norm. Just as he did with the restlessness and inability to calm himself when the storms took over. But the silence that was left was so deafening that sometimes he didn’t know what was worse, the emptiness that followed him around clawing away at his broken mind.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But right now it is quiet. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">So quiet.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And his breathing is more normal, less hitching, despite the tears that are rolling down his cheeks and he doesn’t feel at ease-he never does-but it’s not as bad as usual. It’s more endurable. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It must be around midnight but he’s made no effort to change or to do anything other than lay in the curled up position he’s grown so accustomed to. He’s fully dressed, one hand clutched around the tie he’s wearing-too right and bordering on being a choking hazard-and...</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">...And he doesn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span class="s2">wear</span>
  </em>
  <span class="s1"> ties. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He doesn’t wear them but he is now and he doesn’t know who it belongs to because his mind is blocking out the events of the day and he’s sure that it’s probably best because otherwise he might start to panic again and he’s too tired to try and remember how to calm himself. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He looks down and in the darkness he can just about make out that it’s a pale blue with darker stripes-most definitely not his-but...but... </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And it’s that name again. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The name that will never stop haunting him because he’s a liar and he doesn’t deserve the sympathy that the Murphy’s are giving him. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It’s Connor’s tie. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Connor’s mom gave it to him to wish him good luck for the speech (speech! He forgot about that and already his chest begins to tighten) and he hasn’t brought himself to take it off yet. He should, he really should, but he just wants to keep a piece of the Murphy’s with him him for as long as he keep up the pretence. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And it’s so impossibly hard because he wishes with all his life that he and Connor really </span>
  <em>
    <span class="s2">had </span>
  </em>
  <span class="s1">been friends. Everyone at school, everyone everywhere things they were, and now sometimes even he forgets that they weren’t. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Just acquaintances. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Only acquaintances. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And it’s times like these when Evan wonders if he’s only dating Zoey Murphy because it means he can keep holding onto Connor, have a reason to mourn him. Because other than knowing him briefly at school he really has no reason to still be in the stage of grief that he’s in. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Connor Murphy; the tall, dark-haired boy with a cold life that people overlooked every day that he walked the school halls. Connor Murphy; the boy that never asked for help, even when he knew he was so far into his own despair that maybe there was no way back up. Connor Murphy; the boy who was invisible until he shook death’s hand. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It’s funny, really, how people only care about you once you’re dead. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And it’s even funnier that they care even more when it suicide that claimed the life of another young girl or another young boy. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Evan has wondered countless times what people would say if he died. He wouldn’t even be in the slightest bit surprised if no one realised.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em>
    <span class="s1">“</span>
    <span class="s2">Evan Hansen?” </span>
  </em>
  <span class="s1">They’d say, their faces scrunched up as they tried to think of a face, a memory, anything. “</span>
  <em>
    <span class="s2">Are you sure he went to school here?” </span>
  </em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And everywhere, at every school that the question was asked, people would shake their heads and maybe even laugh a little because “</span>
  <em>
    <span class="s2">Evan Hansen didn’t go here! We’d know if he did.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And goddamn it! He was supposed to have stopped having these thoughts. He was supposed to have stopped a long time ago, before that day at the park...</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The day where he climbed that tree so high he could see every inch of the fields, of the trees surrounding him, of the bare landscape. He was very alone. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And the world had never looked so scary, so wide, that for once he was not afraid to fall. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Did he fall? </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Yes. </span>
  <span class="s2"><em>Yes</em>, </span>
  <span class="s1">he did. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He didn’t...he </span>
  <em>
    <span class="s2">didn’t </span>
  </em>
  <span class="s1">know the branch was to thin and that he was too high up...that there was no one else there to stop him...</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em>
    <span class="s2">Did you fall? Or did you let go...?</span>
  </em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Connor let go. He knows that much. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He wonders what he’s going to say for that speech tomorrow. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em>
    <span class="s2">“Connor Murphy was my best friend...” </span>
  </em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It’s a lie, but it could have been true. </span>
</p><p class="p2">He could have been friends with Connor.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But, like he knows all too well, lies are lies. </span>
</p><p class="p2"><br/>
<br/>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">No matter how much they are twisted. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I’ve never written a DEH fanfic before<br/>I’ve always meant to but...</p><p>Anyway<br/>Thank you for reading :)</p><p>If you enjoyed PLEASE drop a comment they mean so much to me :)</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>